Lindsey could tell by the set of Dale’s jaw, she was angry. The caption simply said: Crime Hits Home for DEA Agent. Lindsey’s gut wrenched at the combination of the expression on Dale’s face and the foreboding words. She scrolled through the article, skipping through phrases faster and faster, eager to know what happened yet dreading what she might learn.
AUSA Maria Escobar…apparently surprised by gunman…body riddled with dozens of blasts from automatic weapons…known for her ruthless prosecution of members of the Texas Mexican Mafia…survived by her wife, Special Agent Dale Nelson.
No small wonder Dale looked angry. There she was standing in front of the house she’d shared with her wife, mere hours after Maria had been assassinated on the front lawn, and reporters were vying for her attention. Lindsey wondered if she would’ve risked Dale’s wrath to get a quote?
Maybe, once upon a time. When she’d first started out, Lindsey had believed nothing should stand between a reporter and the whole story, no matter how messy, no matter how ugly the truth was. Years later, her ideals had been tempered by the inhumanity she’d seen in the world. There was more than enough meanness, cruelty, and atrocity for her to document without having to stoke the flames of her subject’s pain. She might always report the truth, but there was enough pain in the world without her creating more of it. The photo of Dale was striking, the caption provocative, but her heart ached for the way their intrusion had robbed Dale of important moments of quiet grief.
She glanced at the date of the release. Just over a year ago. Were the shades of Dale’s past still casting shadows over her life now? Curiosity drove her to click open a few other stories, and she devoured each one. Dale served as a MP in Afghanistan and she had been awarded a Navy Cross for an act of heroism that appeared to be classified. She’d met Maria, who was serving as a JAG officer, during her time in the service, and they married soon after they both returned to the States. They’d both been working on a task force formed by the local US Attorney, Herschel Gellar. Their mission was to curb the tide of crime and violence perpetrated by the Zeta Cartel whose members were engaged in high dollar drug deals and a host of other violent crimes.
After scanning a dozen articles, Lindsey leaned back in her chair. So, now Special Agent Nelson was assigned to show her around town and educate her on the agency’s drug Take-Back Initiative? Could there be any assignment more toothless than that?
She flashed back to her first look at Dale yesterday—jeans, boots, a tight black T-shirt, badge and gun on her belt, her unruly dark waves sticking out all over. She hadn’t tried to hide her distaste at being assigned as a liaison to her crew. If the agency was set on redeeming their reputation with PR about public outreach, Dale wasn’t buying the script. Something else was going on with Agent Nelson, and Lindsey was convinced whatever it was had to be the hook for this story.
A knock at the door jerked her out of her musings. She moved her laptop to make room for her huge breakfast, but when she swung open the door, instead of a room service waiter, Dale stood framed in the threshold, looking almost exactly the same as she had the day before. Lindsey stood stock-still for a second while she tried to process what was happening. Had they made an appointment and she’d forgotten about it? No, she was meticulous about details, and she hadn’t even had a chance to give Dale her number before Dale ditched her at the DEA office.
“Are you going to invite me in?”
Lindsey snapped out of her reverie and looked down at her clothes. Dale caught her looking and said, “At least you aren’t in your pajamas.”
While Lindsey laughed off her embarrassment, she took a moment to reflect on Dale’s tone. Not an ounce of flirtation had accompanied any of her words. Too bad. She
AUSA Maria Escobar…apparently surprised by gunman…body riddled with dozens of blasts from automatic weapons…known for her ruthless prosecution of members of the Texas Mexican Mafia…survived by her wife, Special Agent Dale Nelson.
No small wonder Dale looked angry. There she was standing in front of the house she’d shared with her wife, mere hours after Maria had been assassinated on the front lawn, and reporters were vying for her attention. Lindsey wondered if she would’ve risked Dale’s wrath to get a quote?
Maybe, once upon a time. When she’d first started out, Lindsey had believed nothing should stand between a reporter and the whole story, no matter how messy, no matter how ugly the truth was. Years later, her ideals had been tempered by the inhumanity she’d seen in the world. There was more than enough meanness, cruelty, and atrocity for her to document without having to stoke the flames of her subject’s pain. She might always report the truth, but there was enough pain in the world without her creating more of it. The photo of Dale was striking, the caption provocative, but her heart ached for the way their intrusion had robbed Dale of important moments of quiet grief.
She glanced at the date of the release. Just over a year ago. Were the shades of Dale’s past still casting shadows over her life now? Curiosity drove her to click open a few other stories, and she devoured each one. Dale served as a MP in Afghanistan and she had been awarded a Navy Cross for an act of heroism that appeared to be classified. She’d met Maria, who was serving as a JAG officer, during her time in the service, and they married soon after they both returned to the States. They’d both been working on a task force formed by the local US Attorney, Herschel Gellar. Their mission was to curb the tide of crime and violence perpetrated by the Zeta Cartel whose members were engaged in high dollar drug deals and a host of other violent crimes.
After scanning a dozen articles, Lindsey leaned back in her chair. So, now Special Agent Nelson was assigned to show her around town and educate her on the agency’s drug Take-Back Initiative? Could there be any assignment more toothless than that?
She flashed back to her first look at Dale yesterday—jeans, boots, a tight black T-shirt, badge and gun on her belt, her unruly dark waves sticking out all over. She hadn’t tried to hide her distaste at being assigned as a liaison to her crew. If the agency was set on redeeming their reputation with PR about public outreach, Dale wasn’t buying the script. Something else was going on with Agent Nelson, and Lindsey was convinced whatever it was had to be the hook for this story.
A knock at the door jerked her out of her musings. She moved her laptop to make room for her huge breakfast, but when she swung open the door, instead of a room service waiter, Dale stood framed in the threshold, looking almost exactly the same as she had the day before. Lindsey stood stock-still for a second while she tried to process what was happening. Had they made an appointment and she’d forgotten about it? No, she was meticulous about details, and she hadn’t even had a chance to give Dale her number before Dale ditched her at the DEA office.
“Are you going to invite me in?”
Lindsey snapped out of her reverie and looked down at her clothes. Dale caught her looking and said, “At least you aren’t in your pajamas.”
While Lindsey laughed off her embarrassment, she took a moment to reflect on Dale’s tone. Not an ounce of flirtation had accompanied any of her words. Too bad. She
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